


Congregation of One

by LittleBuddy



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hunnihawk at the beach, Multi, Peg's a champ, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26635777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBuddy/pseuds/LittleBuddy
Summary: Post-war. BJ finds his breaking point, and Peggy calls Hawkeye for help.
Relationships: B. J. Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, B. J. Hunnicutt/Peg Hunnicutt
Comments: 32
Kudos: 116





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this sort of came to me and I went with it because I'm sick and avoiding my government class. *pls* be nice if you have constructive criticism because I'm fragile as hell. No idea how long it will be. I thought it would be a one shot?? But maybe not?  
> TW- this story will contain some dark themes and mention of SH. No beta, we die like men

He’s mid-trombone performance, playing a fragmented and badly butchered solo for a crowd of telephones. Looking down at himself, he realizes his trombone has morphed into a phone and he’s holding it by the cord. He watches it drop to the stage floor in slow motion, waiting for the inevitable clatter.

 _Bbbbrrring._ Without warning, he’s suddenly wide awake. Gone is the amphitheater in which he’d been performing, his dreamscape replaced by the bedroom wall. A phone was ringing, though. He rubbed a hand over his face, pulling the curtain back and glancing at the clock radio that murmured gently beside his bed. He’d grown accustomed to sleeping with it on, unused to the silence even after two years of living stateside. 4:42am. The time lent credit to the ring, and he swung bare feet over the side of his bed, stalking out through the hallway and into the kitchen.

His voice was rough, heavy with sleep. “Roadkill Café. You kill ‘em, we grill ‘em.”

 _“Benjamin? Hawkeye?”_ Her voice, however, was unmistakable, though he’d never heard it in person. Right away, recognition flooded him. He reached up to scratch the hair at the nape of his neck, brushing the chills away.

“Peggy?”

_“It’s BJ. Can you come?”_

His heart sank. It had to be serious, then. “What-“

 _“He’s not doing so well.”_ The tone of her voice took on a wet edge, teetering on the knife’s blade between anger and sorrow. _“I can’t... I don’t know what to do.”_

Hawkeye swallowed, the lump in his throat returning almost immediately. “Okay.” His mind started racing, planning ahead. “Yeah, okay, I’ll be there quick as I can.” In truth, he was already on his way. His gaze was transfixed on the dirty coffee mug in his sink, but in his minds eye he could already see exactly what he’d pack and the things he’d have to get in order.

_“Hurry, Hawkeye.”_

Packing his suitcase, Hawkeye found himself recalling his and BJ’s last conversation. It hadn’t been anything spectacular, but he was fairly certain he remembered every word. They’d talked over the phone often, at least at first. _Peg has tennis with her girlfriends every other Thursday night,_ BJ had said on the first call, almost sheepishly. _Erin goes with her and plays with the other girls, and I... well, I thought maybe... It’s nice to talk._ They’d racked up the long-distance bills, but he didn’t care. It was so comforting to talk to someone who understood you. They never talked about the war. They talked about generic things – each other’s work, Erin’s tooth she knocked out when she tried to rollerblade down the driveway, the waitress Hawkeye made a weekly game of flirting with. Hawkeye gave BJ an abbreviated version of Crabapple Cove’s barber shop gossip, which often left them howling with laughter.

Then the calls had slowed, after that first winter. Tennis was over for a time, and Hawkeye reminded himself that BJ had a family he’d spend a lifetime catching up with, swallowing the tingling envy that tickled the back of his throat at the thought. He wasn’t jealous, not really. Though Crabapple Cove had welcomed him with the warm familiarity that only a childhood hometown was capable of, he found himself unable to home or even shelve the memories he’d brought back with him. BJ was his coping mechanism, really. As the calls faded, the solace he’d found in their discussions retreated as well. He’d gotten a birthday invite for Erin with a picture of the family, more a gesture of acknowledgment than anything. Peggy had written him a while back, but Hawkeye hadn’t replied. Partly out of stubbornness – he felt that it’d been written in pity, from a wife who noticed the fading friendship – and partly because he didn’t have the words to tell Peggy why he just let it go. 

For just a moment, he let himself wonder what shape he'd find BJ in.

An hour after Peggy called, Hawkeye had the place locked up. Note on the door, bags in the car, he threw a parting glance at the cottage, trying to remember if he’d forgotten anything. The rising sun peeking softly over the edge of the trees cast everything in pastel pink light. It was picturesque, and any other morning he would’ve stopped to savor it. This morning, though – the car door had barely shut before the tires were raising a cloud of dust in his wake.

\- - - -

Chuck Berry. _Nope._ Elvis. _Nope._ Johnny Cash. _Nope._ A sermon. _Definitely not._

Hawkeye flipped the radio off, sighing and rubbing his eyes. Another hour and he’d be shifting his weight back and forth as he greeted Peggy, trying to maintain eye contact, awkward and eager and uncertain all at once. _How do you interact with the wife of someone you..._ he paused, unable to pin down what he felt. Love? Sure. He loved BJ. But he also loved Peg, because she loved BJ. He loved Erin. He’d loved his unit, too. From Henry to Igor, they’d all mattered. _But BJ..._ he stopped himself. No use thinking about things that couldn’t be. 

They’d not acknowledged it during their time in Korea. Not verbally, anyway, but there were plenty of ways to acknowledge someone that didn’t include words. Shoulders brushing as they ate together, feet propped on BJ’s lap as Hawkeye read a magazine aloud. Taking each other’s post-op shifts without hesitation, BJ waking Hawkeye at the first sign of a nightmare. Tears and mental breaks that they acknowledged but didn't hold against one another. But to expose their thoughts would've been like picking a scab: raw, painful, and only healing if they could leave it alone long enough - and he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop once he started.

So, no. They never talked about it. They hadn’t needed to. Now, however, he felt guilty, like he'd somehow contributed to this moment by not talking about it. Maybe BJ had wanted him to, and he'd just missed the clues. It was possible - he'd been so concerned with getting by that first year home that he'd hardly noticed anything around him. He'd missed BJ, sure, but he'd also found a certain amount of peace in the space between them. No longer did he have to worry about overstepping, no longer did he have to sit up at night wearing himself out imagining scenarios in which it all worked out and nobody got hurt. And now, the closer his car brought him, the tighter the anxiety in his stomach clenched, practically squeezing him breathless by the time he passed the Mill Valley sign. He pulled over at a convenient store and used the bathroom, splashing water on his face and assessing himself in the dirty mirror.

“Well hello, you handsome thing. You need a shave.” He smiled congenially at his reflection in the mirror. As he exited the bathroom, a man waiting outside shot him a disbelieving look. Hawkeye gave him a devious grin. “I can compliment you, too, if you want.” The man shuffled into the bathroom, muttering under his breath. Hawkeye made his way to the front. One set of directions, three wrong turns and fifteen minutes later, he turned into a small driveway and put the Buick in park. His heartbeat rang in his ears, pulse beating out a staccato rhythm against his skin. He steeled himself as he exited the car, fight or flight kicking in stronger than he’d felt it since Korea.

A noise behind him caused Hawkeye to turn, bracing himself just in time to avoid stumbling.

“Ah. Hello, tiny human.” 

“Hi, Hawk!” Hazel eyes beamed up at him, arms wrapped tightly around his leg, and Hawkeye felt all the anxiety ooze out of his muscles at once. 

“Hawkeye!” A small, blonde woman had followed Erin out into the yard. 

“Paparazzi, everywhere I go.” Hawkeye leaned in to her outstretched arms, surprised at how familiar he felt with her. 

“Oh, Hawk – it is okay if I call you Hawkeye?”

The surgeon laughed. “Please do. When people call me Benjamin I get an irresistible urge to don a powdered wig and sign constitutions.”

Peg grinned, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She reached for Hawkeye’s bag. “We're so glad you're here. I’ll get this, you bring the growth.”

Her welcoming, carefree attitude immediately hooked him; it was no wonder BJ adored her. Hawkeye pried Erin's arms away from his legs and swung her up into the air, rewarding him with a peal of laughter before he brought her down to rest on his hip. 

“Hi, Hawk,” the girl repeated, pressing her sticky face close to his ear. She had her arms wrapped around his neck, playing with his hair. He relished the attention, absent-mindedly wondering how long it’d been since somebody had touched him casually beyond a simple handshake. She nuzzled his face. “You help daddy?”

Hawkeye’s breath stopped in his chest. “Yeah, sweetheart. I hope so.”

She pulled back from him slightly, grinning at him with approval. He resisted the urge to wipe chocolate off her cheek and followed Peggy inside, where she set his things on the floor and reached for Erin. “Come here, kiddo. Let Hawkeye loose for a minute.” Peg took the little bundle of sass from his arms, tutting at the food on her daughter's face. “He’s on the back porch. Listen, Hawkeye...“ Peggy stopped, setting Erin down. “Why don’t you go find the dog, honey?” Erin took off down the hallway at a run.

“Singlespeed, I see.”

“Everywhere she goes.”

The house was neat, but homey. To the immediate right of the entryway was a living room, a large circular coffee table in the middle of the room totally covered in children’s books and sketches. Comfortable furniture and a throw blanket made it easy to imagine family nights spent sitting together, reading to Erin. Peggy took off down the hallway and Hawkeye followed, crossing into the kitchen. Remnants of lunch sat on the table, and he noted with a pang of distress that there were only two plates. They stopped just short of a beautiful exterior door. 

“He’s out there,” she said.

“You’re not coming?”

“Listen, Hawk.” For the first time since he’d arrived, Peggy’s face showed dismay. “A while back, I walked in on him while he was in the shower.”

Hawkeye raised his eyebrows. “Do continue, please. I’m all imagination.”

She rolled her eyes, but a grin tugged at the corner of her mouth briefly. “He didn’t expect me. It surprised him.” She laughed, but it wasn't funny - her voice took that same dark edge it'd had when she called him. “I suppose it makes sense. We haven’t really been... we don’t really... um.” She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “He’d hurt himself, Hawk. On purpose, you know? I thought maybe it was just shell-shock. I mean, it’s been a while, but I knew it would be hard to readjust, being back here. I asked him, but he said-“ her voice caught, and she paused, tearing her eyes away from his.

“Hey, now. What’d he say?” 

She shook her head. Tears glistened in her eyes, but she smiled at him. “Just talk to him, okay?”

He observed her for a moment longer before nodding. “Alright. He’s--?” he gestured to the door. She nodded, reaching for the door handle and swinging it wide. He pushed past the storm door and out onto the porch. The soft click of the door shutting behind him urged him forward, toward the man lounging in the patio chair. Hawkeye took his seat across from BJ.

“Hiya, Beej.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *squealing* thank you EVERYONE who left kudos and big hugs (or kisses or good vibes, whatever suits you) to the people who commented. You make the world go round.
> 
> Bit longer, this one. Couldn't find a place I liked to break it, so you get it all at once. All mistakes are mine.. I proofread but there's only so many times I can do so.  
> CW: scars and blood near end of chapter. Nothing graphic, but it's there.

“Are you sure you feel up to this? You did just drive across the country, and I –“

Hawkeye held up a hand, stopping Peggy midsentence. “I can’t say no to baked ham and pineapple. Besides, I don’t think someone would take very kindly to a change in plans.” He tilted his head, motioning to the doorway. Peggy followed his gaze, stifling a laugh at the scene before them.

“I dressed up, Mom.” Erin had donned a spotted one-piece swimsuit, a too-big, brimmed straw hat and a pair of tortoiseshell cat-eye sunnies. Under one arm, she held a towel, and under the other, a striped umbrella as tall as she was. “This hat makes my ears feel wobbly.”

Hawkeye laughed. “I hate when my ears feel wobbly.” 

BJ emerged in the kitchen behind Erin. Hawkeye surveyed him briefly, taking in the long tan legs, patterned swim trunks and the long-sleeve shirt that hung in such a way that one sharp collarbone was exposed. Swallowing hard, Hawkeye tore his eyes away with what felt like an enormous amount of effort. 

He hadn’t known what to expect, to be honest. Seeing BJ hurting tore him up, no doubt. Apprehension hung over his thoughts like a storm cloud waiting to burst. But there was joy, too. He’d missed the hell out of the surgeon, and hearing that familiar voice was like letting out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. There was something inexplicably comfortable about being with all of them. In Korea, the two surgeons had found a home in one another, their souls slotting together like puzzle pieces. But here, facing a different side of the same puzzle piece, he was surprised to find that he fit this way, too; at peace in the bright kitchen, immediately comfortable with the women of the house. He was visiting, but he didn’t feel like a visitor.

That wasn’t to say it was easy, though. The pain he’d felt when Peggy said _“on purpose, you know?”_ had seared him like a red-hot iron. Sneaking another glance at BJ as Peggy rattled off directions, he wondered if they’d ever talk about it. Their conversation on the porch earlier had been ridiculously easy – too easy for a pair of friends who each knew the other knew more than they let on. They talked, laughed, caught up, passed BJ’s beer back and forth until it was gone, all the while pretending that they weren’t evaluating each other’s every move, assessing each sentence. In a comfortable lull, Hawkeye had caught BJ frowning.

_”Penny for your thoughts?”_

_”I’ll take a dollar, no less.” BJ deflected. Hawkeye was silent, waiting. He was rewarded when BJ stood up abruptly. “Let’s go somewhere.”_

_”Somewhere?” Hawkeye floundered, surprised by the sudden change in conversation. “I’ve never been. Do they speak English there?”_

Now here they were – Peggy had jumped on the idea, offering to pack a picnic. Erin had overheard, climbing BJ’s leg until he picked her up, begging to come along. BJ cast a look at Hawkeye, who’d shrugged. Erin immediately ran off to get ready. “Perfect,” Peggy had said. “I can clean house and run errands without anyone underfoot.”

Everyone changed and ready, Peggy ushered them out the door, a hand on the small of Hawkeye’s back halting him in the entryway. 

“Take as long as you want. Don’t let Erin have any soda, no matter what they tell you. It makes her crazy. And Hawkeye?” She met his gaze, and he felt suddenly exposed beneath her blue eyes.  
“Thanks.”

He nodded. “I’ll send a bill.” They exchanged a smile, and she pushed him on out into the yard. 

\- - -

“Pretty, right?”

Hawkeye nodded in agreement. “It’s impressive.” On one side of Stinson’s white sand, the green hills stood against the skyline with gentle serenity. On the other, the bluest water Hawkeye could remember seeing. The long, crescent expanse of beach was flecked here and there with colored umbrellas and ice chests.

“Big change from Maine, I guess.”

“As different as ‘yay’ and ‘nay’.”

Erin tottered up to them. “Can we swim now?”

“Maybe Hawk will take you down while I set this up?” BJ glanced questioningly at his friend. Hawkeye shrugged and held out his hand. Erin grasped it eagerly, dragging him to the edge of the water.

There was no way to describe that first step into the surf, satisfying in the way only saltwater on a summer day was capable of feeling. He followed Erin out, keeping a firm hold on her hand. She screamed, bending down and splashing him with water.

“Hey now!” He fake spluttered, chasing her to drop a cupped handful of water over her head in return. She laughed, and thus began a back-and-forth splash war. 

“Uncle, uncle! I give up. You win, you little siren, you.” 

“Uncle! Uncle!” Erin parroted him, giggling in triumph. She made circles of her hands and held them up to her eyes like binoculars, turning to survey the beach. When she picked her father out of the people on the beach, she waved her hands over her head. “Daddy! Come on!”

BJ was reclined on a blanket under their umbrella. He smiled, waving back, but Erin didn’t give up. “Be back,” she said, patting Hawkeye on the shoulder before wading back to shore. Running to her father, she planted herself over him, dripping, all excitement and animated gestures. Hawkeye watched her, grinning. She was good for BJ, no doubt. Erin put her hands on her hips and BJ shook his head, surrender clear as he stood, toeing off his converse. He waved her on - _I’m coming, I’m coming_ \- and only once she turned did he peel the Henley off and discard it with their things before running to join them in the water.

Then they wade out further, and Erin goes like a fish. BJ seemed to relax fully for the first time since Hawk arrived, stress carried out with the waves. They counted sailboats, taking turns making up stories about pirates on each one. Butterflies started doing acrobatics in Hawkeye’s stomach when BJ pretended to be a dolphin for Erin – she’d cling to his back, holding her nose while he dove in and out of the water. They played Moby Dick – Hawkeye was the whale, and he couldn’t resist - _”Is that a harpoon in your pocket or?_ \- and then Erin’s asking to hunt for shells, so they walk down the beach together. By the time she filled their hands with shells, Hawkeye’s stomach was talking to him.

“How about some dinner, Single Speed?” 

Erin nodded in agreement. “Arrr. Dinner, mateys!”

They made their way back to the blanket, stopping for more shells along the way.

“Erin, honey, do we have to keep these?”

Erin looked up at her father, crinkling her nose at him. _That had to be a Peggy look,_ Hawkeye thought. “Shells are for mom,” she said, plopping down on the blanket, and that’s that, judging by the expression she fixes him with.

“I’m sure she’ll be delighted,” BJ said. 

“Here, hold on. I’ll get a bag. Here – “ He dumped the shells he’d been given into BJ’s hands. That’s when he sees it for the first time – whitish pink, slightly raised, framed by suture marks, a stark contrast against BJ’s tan skin. Hawkeye’s whole body stuttered, and he momentarily hovered there before mentally regrouping. BJ pulls his hands in close to his body, withdrawing as far as he can without stepping back. Hawkeye turned around quickly, focusing on the task to mask his surprise. Emptying one of the little brown sacks of food onto a plate, they dump the shells into the bag. 

Hawkeye gets down to addressing his growling stomach and pretends not to notice BJ pulling his shirt back on.

\- - -

They’re on the way home when it comes up. Erin is snoring, little snort-like noises emanating from the back seat where she’s sprawled out, head on Hawkeye’s shirt. He can feel the warmth under his seatbelt where the sun kissed him, and they all smell like salt and sweat. Hawkeye’s pretty sure he’ll be shaking sand out of his hair for another week. He’s not sure the last time he felt this contented, and he feels vaguely guilty for it, given the circumstances. But he thinks BJ feels the same way, which helps.

“Weird, isn’t it?”

BJ’s voice startles Hawkeye out of his thoughts, and he turns his gaze from the road to the doctor in the seat next to him. “How’s that?”

“Klinger wanted to be crazy. Frank was certifiable. Kids that didn’t ask for it got it.” He scoffed. “Hell, you were there longer than me. But here we are, and I’m the one who’s lost my ever loving mind.” 

Hawkeye bit his cheek, spared the task of finding a reply as he changes lanes to pass a showy Cadillac. SR 1 is full of them, he’s noticed – beachgoers and summer vacationers in their luxury vehicles dotting the road. 

BJ went quiet, but Hawkeye’s afraid they won’t return to the conversation if he lets it go.

“You’re not crazy, Beej.”

“You have no idea.”

“Oh, I don’t?”

BJ turned his gaze out the window, rubbing absentmindedly at his arm.

“Why’d you do it?”

BJ glanced sideways at him. “I thought it would be easier.”

“For who?”

“For me, Hawkeye.”

“Well, if that’s all.” Hawkeye’s voice had taken an edge he hadn’t intended.

“Listen, that’s not... you don’t know what it’s like.” Before Hawkeye can interrupt with the _like hell I do_ that dances on the end of his tongue, BJ’s talking again. “I can hardly stand to be here. I’m a fake, you know? We’re not the same people we were when we left, Hawk. You come back, and everyone expects the same person to be returning on that plane. Well, the man I went to Korea as, he stayed there. This man – the man I am now, the man the war made – well, he’s here instead, and he’s pathetic. Not whole. For Christ’s sake, the only piece of me that came back is-“ BJ stopped himself short, casting a wild look at Hawkeye.

“Is what?”

“Forget it.”

Hawkeye wouldn’t forget it, but he moved on. “So you decided you’d kill this man? The one who came back?”

“He’s not real. He’s a façade, Hawkeye. Aren’t you?” BJ’s voice had risen in volume. Erin snored loudly from the back of the car, shifting around until she curled up with her back to them. Hawkeye watched her in the rearview. They were silent for a moment, daring to talk again only once the steady snoring had resumed.

“Do you value me less?” 

“What?”

“Do you value me less for who I am now? Less than the person you first met in Korea?”

“Of course not.”

Hawkeye gave BJ a pointed look. BJ shook his head, putting his hands up. “That’s not the same.”

“It is. The point is, you’re valued. People love the you who came back. Erin adores you, and Peggy-“ Hawkeye shook his head. “I can’t begin to tell you how much she loves you, Beej.”

“That’s the problem,” BJ said. He slumped back into his seat. “That’s why.”

“That’s why you filleted yourself? Because she loves you? Well.” Hawkeye nodded as if agreeing, his face a sardonic smile. “That makes as much sense as offering a quadruple amputee a matching set of socks and gloves.”

BJ didn’t laugh. “Because I haven’t been true to her, Hawkeye.”

Hawkeye felt his stomach drop to the place reserved for deep emotional blows. _Unfaithful? Beej?_ He hated himself for it, but he felt a streak of jealousy flow through him, followed closely by another pang in his gut. He flushed, suddenly ashamed of his desires, thankful for the dark within the car.

“She deserves more. Every time I see the scar I’m reminded of it.”

“Beej. You can’t think that, really. I’m positive she’d forgive you and love you just the same,” Hawkeye said. He was sure of it, even before he said it. 

“Still.”

“So, what. It was punishment?”

“No, I....” BJ trailed off, suddenly deflating. “I’m just tired, Hawkeye. I’m so... I’m always everyone else’s rock. And I needed that, for years. But I needed someone here, coming back, and Peggy – God bless her, she can’t understand.” He sucks in a breath. “I wouldn’t want her to understand. So I just... stopped.” He raised a hand, pointing at Hawkeye’s next turn. Hawkeye steered the car between potholes, taking it slow, mindful of the sleeping figure behind them. 

“Stopped?” 

“Feeling. It’s easier than you’d think.” He laughed hollowly. “Then, I was sitting there with Erin one day, and she asked if she should make us lunch. She did. It was great. Peggy was gone. I hadn’t even thought about it. It was hours past when we should’ve eaten, and she just took it into her tiny little hands. Took me into her hands.” He sniffed, and Hawkeye knew if he looked he’d see tears on his friend’s face.

“She’s a solid girl, Beej.”

“I didn’t feel a thing.” BJ continued, as if he hadn’t heard him.  
They were almost back to the house, now, and Hawkeye pulled in to a gas station, sliding the car into a parking spot and taking it out of gear.

“I didn’t care. I don’t even think I ate it. But not caring... bothered me. I wanted to feel something about it.”

_There. That makes sense._

“So you tried the only way you could think of. It’s logical.”

“It’s crazy is what it is. And I deserved it, I think. It wasn’t her fault.”

“I know, and of course it’s not. You don’t. Didn’t, whatever. Beej-“ Hawkeye isn’t sure what to say, just that he has to say something. “I still don’t think you could’ve done anything Peggy wouldn’t forgive.”

“You don’t know that. It would –“

“You know Peggy better than I do,” Hawkeye said. “But you hear me loud and clear, BJ Hunnicutt. You’re wrong if you think she’d rather you be miserable than tell her the truth, no matter who it hurts. There’s nothing you two couldn’t come back from.” He wanted to make a joke, and two or three cross his mind, but he stops himself. BJ shakes his head.

“It’s you, Hawk. It’s you.”

Hawkeye doesn’t quite understand, can’t grasp the idea BJ is throwing his way. The confusion must’ve shown on his face, because BJ sighs. “It’s always been you. I – you’ve got the only piece of me I recognize anymore.”

The wheels on Hawkeye’s heart burn out, leaving streaks across his chest as it speeds away from him, running faster than his mind can catch up with. _It wasn’t someone else._ He feels so much relief at this thought that it sucks the breath straight out of his lungs.

“I’m sorry, if that helps.” BJ’s voice is quiet and Hawkeye can’t stop himself from getting out of the car to yank BJ’s door open, and suddenly he’s holding his best friend as he weeps into Hawkeye’s shoulder. He’s aware of the station attendant eyeing them from inside, aware of the hot tears falling on his bare shoulder, aware that he’s not sure whose sobs are shaking who as they cling to each other in the parking lot, aware of the men in the car at the pump shooting them foul looks, and he doesn’t care.

“You idiot,” Hawkeye whispered. “You damned idiot.”

“You too,” BJ says, and then they’re laughing – hysterical peals echoing in the parking lot, carelessly open and joyous. 

\- - -

When they get to the house, BJ disappears. Physically, he’s there on the couch beside Peg, absentmindedly stroking her shin. Mentally, he's on another planet entirely. They’d put Erin to bed and Peggy had offered them drinks and cookies, but Hawkeye can only take the shift in mood for so long before he panics, excusing himself to the guest room.

Silent as the house was, frustrated as he was, questions and worries reaching for him from each direction, the dark haired surgeon was thoroughly spent. He crawled into bed and fell asleep immediately, dreaming of blood swirling down drains and shaky hands holding his own.


	3. Chapter 3

_Dear Dad,_

_I know it’s been a while. Quite a change of scenery this time. I’m in Mill Valley, California. I’ve taken up residency in the Hunnicutt guest room for a little while._

__

_The last time I wrote you, I was just a kid with a medical degree trying to play hero in a war I didn’t ask for. I say kid because I find myself in another war zone now and I feel so much older this time around, never mind the fact that it’s only been a few years._

_Peggy called me as a way of reinforcements in this little war. I’m getting the feeling that she’s been fighting this a lot longer than she lets on. If I’m honest, it scared the hell out of me to hear her voice. B.J.’s in a bad way, Dad. I guess I’m here to do something about it, but I’m afraid I’m making it worse._

_The first day I was here, B.J. and I took Erin to the beach. It was beautiful – like being inside a postcard. Erin is charming. Delightful, funny, clever, and conniving. I think she has a crush on me. She gets that from her dad._

_Lost? Confused? Join the club - we meet every morning upon waking. Meetings adjourn only for sleep._

_We spent that day in gloriously sunny ecstasy. (Don’t read into that.) Erin collected way too many mediocre seashells, filling both her heart and a sandwich bag. We swam for hours, bought awful drinks and went back for seconds, I got a sunburn and B.J. transformed into a dolphin. The usual._

__

__

_As all good things do, the day came to an end and we headed home in the near-dark. Erin passed out in the backseat and we had a chance to really talk without an audience._

_......_

_Sorry, I’m back. Erin asked if I’d go outside with her. I’m sitting on the back porch watching her chase butterflies around the garden. It’s ridiculously quant and disgustingly domestic. I love it._

_Anyway, back to that night. So I’m driving under the highway lights in California, my best friend in the passenger seat, and all of a sudden I’m an innocent bystander, watching as everything I’ve come to accept in the last two years is T-boned by new facts._

_He needs me... and not as his consulting physician. Needs. Me! Said so himself. I’m both terrified that I’ve caused his distress and elated that it’s me, you know? And don’t even get me started on how bad I feel. I’m playing hide and seek with the guilt, tucking it away in different places and pretending I’m surprised each time I find it again._

_Peggy is golden. She’s there for him, just right down in the trenches of it, you know? She’s armed with so much knowledge and grace. I’ve never met a woman like her. The draw to her is inescapable – so much more than skin deep. She’s Atlas, holding the weight of their world on her shoulders. If I weren’t so sure I’m in love with someone else, I’d have to love her. I do, to some extent, because nobody else could’ve taken care of Beej as well or as tenderly. I’m sure she’s aware of something simmering just beneath the surface, but it’s only a matter of time until it boils up and exposes itself._

_What are my options? Boy, if only I were in high school again. I have new ideas about how to ruin my life._

_If I come clean to Peggy about everything - I may tear something beautiful out of the relationship between husband and wife. If I never say anything... I’m back at square one, and I think I’d permanently lose the most precious relationship I’ve ever had. I haven’t been there for him, not really. I was afraid, Dad. I’m still afraid. Being here, though, seeing the scars it’s left on everyone – I can’t leave again. I’ll have to suture together the scraps we have left over and just hope the finished product looks remotely okay._

_I need him too, you know._

_Guess I’m on my own this time. Peggy’s calling us in to eat. I’m going to try to talk BJ into going out this evening. I think it would help – to do things. Maybe we don’t have to talk – if my autopsy is the next time I open up to someone, that’ll be fine by me._

_I miss you.  
Hawkeye_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one this time. School is overwhelming and I've been sick. Again, a huge thank you to those of you who have left comments and kudos. *TV voice* This program is possible thanks to the contributions of viewers like you. Thank you.


	4. Chapter 4

They didn’t go out that evening, but Peggy managed to rope them all into a game night. The last few days had been nothing but an exercise in etiquette, neither of the men knowing quite where to go from their recent soul-baring. For Hawkeye, it wasn’t a trust issue – he trusted the man with his life and then some. He knew he could be transparent with BJ. It was just a seemingly endless question of ‘what if?’ and ‘what now?’ 

Besides that, there was another element that hadn’t been there before and he was still learning how to operate around it. As if he’d been seeing through a dirty window, Hawkeye was suddenly seeing things with startling clarity. He noticed everything: the way BJ folded towels, how he stretched and twisted to pop his back after he’d been sitting for too long. He noticed which mug BJ preferred for coffee, the way he’d absentmindedly pat Erin’s back when he held her, the way he propped his elbow on the window while he was driving. Hawkeye saw things he’d never seen before, things he’d never allowed himself to see. The thing that shook him the most was that he’d caught BJ noticing things, too. There were too many furtive glances, too much accidental eye contact for it to go unnoticed. Hawkeye drank it in, however strange of a sensation the new awareness felt. It was like seeing for the first time.

Peggy was, as usual, a life-saver. She filled the silence while BJ contributed a word here and there, and Erin provided constant comic relief. 

After dinner, they played a few board games with Erin – she was good, just clever enough that Hawkeye had to watch her or he’d find himself on the losing end of a kid’s game. BJ and Hawkeye barely made eye contact, conversation pleasant but stifled. Erin got herself ready for bed and they transitioned to card games. Erin came in to kiss them all goodnight – Hawkeye included, delivering a shy but sincere peck on his cheek. They paused the game while Peggy tucked Erin in. When she returned, she brought beer and brownies. 

“After the dinner you served us!?” Hawkeye gulped the beer, relishing the initial bitter taste. “I’m going to leave here ten pounds heavier.”

“You could use some fattening up,” Peggy teased, patting him on the knee. Hawkeye narrowed his eyes at her, then turned to BJ and stuck out his hand.

“Why hello, Hansel,” Hawkeye greeted him. BJ shook the outstretched hand, a grin playing across his face.

“Hello, Gretel.”

Peggy laughed. “I guess that makes me the evil witch.”

“Certainly what I was thinking after the way you played me in that last round!”

One joke, a shared look, and just like that the walls crumbled and they were back to teasing and joking. The beer helped buoy the conversation and BJ and Hawkeye were back on even ground again, the chasm of awkward between them closing to a mere crack. Vaguely aware that this was the most they’d talked in one sitting since that day at the beach, Hawkeye took full advantage of the situation. 

It was eleven o’clock, and he told stories and made bad jokes while BJ played off him, their howling laughter illuminating the night.

It was midnight, and Peggy nudged Hawkeye’s knee with her own, showing her hand and winking at him conspicuously. They beat BJ through teamwork that round, ending his winning streak. Peggy turned around and obliterated Hawkeye in the next game, much to his protests of betrayal.

It was three a.m., and Hawkeye was laying down his final card and smirking when BJ and Peggy threw their own cards at him in unison.

It was some ungodly hour, a lost moment between midnight and sunrise. Beer bottles and playing cards littering the table, an echo of the evening’s joyful indulgence. Peggy leaned over to kiss Hawkeye goodnight, warm breath against his temple. It was some ungodly hour, and Hawkeye was brushing his teeth, shoulder still tingling with the memory of the hand BJ had placed on it as he said goodnight. It was some ungodly hour, and Hawkeye went to sleep replaying the evening in his head.

\- - -

“Have I mentioned it’s beautiful out here?”

He knew he had, three times to be precise. Hawkeye surveyed the landscape again, taking in the surrounding trees and the reflection of clouds dancing across the water. He tugged his line, reeled, and tugged again, watching the end of his fishing pole. 

“I never get tired of it,” BJ said. 

“Hey, you’ve got one!”

Lake Alpine was stock full of trout, most of which BJ had already caught that day. He reeled the line in with the skilled expertise of someone who’d done it countless times, and Hawkeye pretended not to watch. 

“How many does that make for me?”

Hawkeye scowled. “More than me by way too many. Don’t mention it again.” He pointed at the fish, indignant. “I think that’s the same trout you’ve caught the last six times, so it doesn’t count!”

“Oh, it counts,” BJ said. “Fish swim in schools, so I’m sure it’s learned to count.”

“That was horrible,” Hawkeye moaned. “Please tell your fish friend to stop playing hooky.”

“I can’t communicate with fish.”

“Sure you can. Just drop him a line.”

BJ laughed, throwing his head back. "You reel-y got me with that one.”

Hawkeye turned his back to him, casting his line back into the water. “Bass-tard.”

They spent the day ribbing each other and reeling in fish, admiring them and throwing them back. Wind rustled through the trees softly, birds chattered in the canopy above them as they visited and fished, enjoying each other’s presence.

The car ride home was pleasantly quiet, neither feeling the need to make much conversation. Thinking back, Hawkeye couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone fishing – he’d tried, in Crabapple Cove, but the memories with his dad were overwhelming and he’d given up before even casting a line. Fishing with his dad was something he’d missed. Upon his return from Korea, though, Hawkeye found himself avoiding their old stomping grounds and the memories that went with them. Since the elder Pierce had passed, almost everything in the town had transformed into a painful reminder that his father was gone. Today had been refreshing - a return to something he loved, with someone he enjoyed. _Or maybe it’s something I enjoy with someone I love?_  
Evening was well on it’s way to nightfall as they pulled into the driveway, warm light spilling from the front windows out onto the porch.

“Hey, Beej?” 

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

BJ parked the car and they got out, collecting their gear from the trunk. BJ grabbed the tackle box from Hawkeye and they made their way to the house. 

“For what?” 

“For today. I really enjoyed it. I’m incredibly contented and I just thought you should know. Blame it on the serotonin, but I’m feeling great. Almost as good as when we spent that week planning the elaborate set-up to ship ourselves home by mail.”

BJ laughed. Hawkeye followed him onto the porch.

“I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s been kinda quiet.” Hawkeye met BJ’s gaze with a shrug. “For the past few days we've exchanged fewer words than the number of fish I caught today.”

He’d meant it as a playful comment about a moment he was glad they were over, but the look on his friend’s face told him it hadn’t been received that way. The tension had returned to BJ’s shoulders, and Hawkeye found himself back peddling.

“I didn’t mean that as a dig, Beej. I just meant it’s been.... “

“Hard?” BJ’s voice was rough. They’d stopped on the porch, facing each other now, no space to avoid eye contact or change topics.

“Well, you could say that.“

“ _You_ think it’s been hard? Really?”

“Um... yeah, I’d say it’s been a little difficult,” Hawkeye answered. He could feel the control slipping from his grasp, unable to put a stop to this conversation.

“Are you the only person around here who has trouble, Hawkeye?”

“Well, no, but you see, your wife asked me to come out here to visit _you_ and yet I’ve done more visiting with your five year old.”

“Are you mad about it?”

“No, not particularly, I mean she’s great company, but-“

“Then what’s the problem?” 

“What’s your problem, Beej? Huh?” Hawkeye studied his friend, looking for something in the familiar face that would bring some clarity to the moment. The emotion he recognized was fiery, broiling, and threatening to erupt. Hawkeye had seen this emotion directed at others before – commanders who put their troops in danger, soldiers who left behind children, doctors who lacked morals. But rarely at him. He hated it. “You’re angry at me. Why’re you angry?”

BJ scoffed. “Where do I start!?” He motioned, hands full of fishing tackle, to the house. “You look at this, and you see this happy home, right? This beautiful space, full of life and-and joy and everything good, right? You see that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, Beej, yeah. Of course I do.”

“Do you recall where we were a few years ago?” BJ paused. “While this place was being made, while Peggy and Erin were here alone, laying the foundation for our little life, I was in Korea!” He shook his head, jaw clenching. “I lost all this time with them, Hawkeye. I missed the first drawings hung on the refrigerator. I missed the first sandwich Erin made herself. I wasn’t here for game nights with neighbors, for holiday decorations and arguments over curtains. Somebody else fixed our plumbing. Peggy painted the door alone. Erin accumulated all her ridiculous little shells and knick-knacks and vocabulary on trips I’ll never even know about!”

Hawkeye didn’t say anything, wasn’t sure what he’d say even if he could say something.

“I lost all this goddamned time with them.”

“I know, Beej.”

“I spent all this time in Korea, where time just stood still. Meanwhile, life here moved right along without me. I was so angry about it.”

“But you're here now!”

BJ laughed, a wild, cynical laugh. “Yeah, now. I’m here now. With Peggy and Erin. The loves of my life. I get to see them every day, I get to hold them and kiss them and do life with them, and you –“ his voice cracked, and he stopped.

Hawkeye shifted his weight, the bag he held cutting uncomfortably into the palm of his hand. “What about me?”

BJ sucked in a shaky breath and met his gaze. “You live on the opposite end of the country, you flirt with waitresses that mean nothing to you, you drink alone, we hardly talk, we don’t see each other and if it weren’t for a damn breakdown, I wouldn’t have seen you at all!”

His raised voice reverberated off the small porch, and Hawkeye had to stop himself from flinching. “BJ, I – “

“Don’t, Hawkeye. Don’t make excuses.” He shook his head. “I could make plenty, too, but there’s no use. It is what it is.”

“What exactly is ‘it’?” It was Hawkeye’s turn to shake his head. “’Cause I don’t get it.”

“What isn’t there to get? I’m here, at home, where I should’ve been all along. I’m not missing out anymore. I’m with my family every day, and it’s wonderful. But the only thing I can think about is how I’m missing out on you!”

“On me?”

“Yes!” BJ scowled. “So don’t talk to me about hard. I know all about it. I’ve been up against a rock and a hard place since we came back.” With that, he pulled the screen door open, flinging it open hard enough that it banged against the wall. As he pushed through the door, he ran directly into Peggy, who stood in the entryway like a sentinel. Her face betrayed no emotion, but it was clear that she’d heard everything.

Everyone froze, the air tight with strife. After a beat, BJ calmly turned and placed the fishing gear on the front porch.

“BJ?” Peggy’s voice was soft, calm. 

“I’ll be back.” He turned on a dime and retreated to the car.

“Beej!”

“I’ll be back!”

BJ slammed the door, revving the engine up and backing out of the driveway.

Hawkeye turned to Peggy. The stress on her face mirrored his as she let the mask fall. Wordlessly, he set his gear down and followed her inside. 

\- - -

Without discussing it, they seated themselves in the living room. Peggy had been sketching, judging from the disarray on the coffee table. Hawkeye picked one of the drawings up, studying it.

“This is really good.” The sketch was brilliantly accurate. On the paper, Peggy had outlined Erin and Hawkeye sitting on the porch together. Erin had cuddled up to him and pressed her face into his tee-shirt. He’d read out loud to her well after she'd fellen asleep. The shading captured perfectly the smooshed-up face of a child taking an accidental nap, the awkward, cramp-inducing position he’d been stuck in, and the absolute domesticity of it all.

“It’s easy when I feel something about what I’m drawing,” she said, shrugging. 

Hawkeye set the paper back down on the table. “Yeah? I bet you feel plenty about me right now.” 

She fixed him with a look he couldn’t quiet read, then smiled softly. “You bet I do.”

“Are you worried?”

“About what? But yes.”

He would’ve laughed if it hadn’t been so sincere. “He’ll be okay, driving around alone?”

“I mean, he’ll come back eventually,” she said. She scrubbed her face with her hands, and Hawkeye was given a glimpse of the exhaustion she kept so well hidden. “What happened, Hawkeye?”

He shrugged. “I don’t even know. One minute we’re having a great time, the next I’ve got a mouthful of foot and my hands full of angry friend.” He looked up at her. “Are you okay?”

“You mean, ‘are you upset that your husband is in love with me’?” 

Hawkeye met her eyes, mouth falling open briefly before he clamped it shut.

“I’ll take that as a yes. In that case, no. And no, I’m not upset about what he said, either.”

“How?”

Her brow furrowed, confusion written across her features.

“I mean, how are you not upset? You married this man who left you for a war, and then he comes back with a newfound appreciation for the XY chromosome.”

“I was upset at first.” Peggy pulled her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around her legs. “I mean, who wouldn’t be? I never felt like his leaving was his fault. I love him so much it just didn’t matter. But we had to do things without him. I raised Erin without him here. I had to figure out how to do things on my own, how to use my resources. Who I could trust. Which repairmen would cheat me and which I could recommend to friends.” 

Hawkeye watched as she picked at a thread on the cushion, pulling at it until it came loose.

“I made a community for myself,” she continued. “And I became someone without him. Not that he wasn’t – isn’t – a very important part of my life. But both of us became individuals. A unit divided. We both did what we had to do to survive, but that meant we both did it alone. I love him, Hawkeye, but it’s not all of me anymore.” She looked up at him, meeting his eyes with a gaze that left nothing unsaid. “I love him. Erin loves him. And he loves us. But I don’t think it’s fair to pretend that we can still give each other everything the other person needs now.”

Hawkeye studied her, hanging on each word like a lifeline, trying to grasp what she was saying.

“Hawkeye. We aren’t made to specifications where we’re only compatible with one person.” She reached out and grabbed his wrist, rubbing a reassuring thumb over the back of his hand. 

“He’s my soulmate, but we’ve done our dance. Now I’ve learned a new one, and so has he. You’re just a part of his, you see?”

Without prompting, Hawkeye found himself verbally vomiting the story of that evening after the beach. He told her everything – the thoughts he’d had, the way he’d felt, the fears he still had. She took it all in with the expression of one who wasn’t surprised in the least. She shrugged, nonplussed.

“You’re really okay with it?”

“I’m really okay with it.”

“How is... how does that work?” His mind overflowed with questions shoving for attention, things he still couldn’t quite get, but Peggy shook her head.

“We’ll figure it out.”

“I vote you talk to him,” Hawkeye said. “I think he’d find that much more believable if it came from his wife. I’m likely to upset him again. Doesn’t seem to take much for me to manage that.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Peggy agreed. “Just don’t worry yourself sick over answering all the questions right now, okay? I did enough of it for both of us over the last few years.”

\- - -

Hawkeye sat on his bed, reading and re-reading a page in his book. He couldn’t remember if he’d turned a single page since he’d opened the book. BJ had come home a while ago, and he and Peggy had been holding a private conference in the bedroom for the last two hours. Occasionally their voices rose, but it never sounded angry – just stressed. 

A knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts. Peggy peeked her head in.

“Hey, soldier.”

“Hey yourself.”

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Hawkeye shrugged. “I’ll check my calendar. What’ve you got in mind?”

“Could you watch Erin for the day? BJ and I want to take a drive.”

_BJ and I_ sounded like a stretch, but he didn’t comment. “I knew you just invited me for the free labor. Sure, I don’t mind.”

“Great. See you in the morning.”

Peggy left. Hawkeye shut his book, shut off the light, and made a valiant attempt to shut off his brain long enough to go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really bad want to write a hanky panky scene(s?) but I'm waiting and, well, let me just say. It gets worse before it gets better. Prepare thyself for angst. As always, thanks for the encouragement! Comments fuel me. It's like redbull for my inner writer, but better. Redbull makes me shake. Comments don't. c:
> 
> p.s. drinking and writing makes editing a pain in the bass. I'm always herring great fish jokes but they're hard to recall in the moment. I just hope it wasn't a turtle disaster. Let minnow if I should've scaled back? These jokes are getting out of hand, maybe I'll sea kelp.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: homophobic slurs. Please pay attention to updated tags

Erin watched Hawkeye with a level of suspicion he hadn’t seen since the days when a certain Colonel Flagg dogged his steps.

“What is it?”

She bit her lip and seemed to debate with herself. “Mom says no Gunsmoke.”

“Ahh. Why not?”

Erin crinkled her brow. “It’s immaproveient.”

“Immaproveint?”

“Immaproveint.”

The two stared at each other for a moment before it clicked for Hawkeye. “Ahh, inappropriate.”

Erin, all seriousness, nodded. “Yes.”

Hawkeye studied the tv for a moment, where the intro to Gunsmoke played across the screen in fuzzy black-and-white. They glanced at each other again and Erin sighed, raising her tiny hands to her sides in an exaggerated shrug.

“I won’t tell if you don’t tell," he offered.

She seemed to accept this as a suitable solution, crawling onto the couch to settle herself between his legs, tiny form pressed against his chest. Miss Kitty’s picture flashed across the screen, and Erin pointed.

“She’s pretty. Mom says she’s a user and she runs a brother.”

Hawkeye laughed out loud. “A brothel.”

Erin glances up at him. “No, a brother.”

“Okay, kid. What would I know? I’m merely a gutter-dweller myself.”

She patted his arm in a _there, there_ manner and slid further down to rest her head against his sternum. Ten minutes in, she was asleep. Warm morning sun filtered in through the living room blinds, breakfast sat comfortably in his stomach and the tv rumbled in the background. Hawkeye settled in for the long run, shifting only to lean against the back cushion and pull a blanket over them.

\- - -

California passed by in a blur of buildings. People, cars, colors. Smells from a street-corner café drifted in through the open window. BJ studied her, feeling a pang of homesickness in his stomach. Peg had her arm out the window, angling her hand up and down, letting her palm glide through the current of wind with childlike joy. He missed her already, in way you miss things you can’t get back to. Fondly, sorrowfully. She met his eyes and smiled softly.

“I love you,” he said.

“I know.”

He nodded. 

“We should get gas,” Peggy said. 

“Snacks?”

“I’m always ready to eat.”

Peg ran across the street to the drugstore while BJ had the tank topped off. When she slid into the passenger seat, she held up a shopping bag and shook it gently.

“Got your favorite.”

“Shelled?”

“Nope,” she said. She held up a package of red Twizzlers. “And the candy of champions. That's me, by the way. I'm the champion.”

He made a face. “Gross.”

“Don’t talk to me about gross. You're the one who likes green nuts.”

He paused, mouth open, prepared to make the joke they both knew was coming – but then he met her gaze and saw the smirk crinkling the corners of her eyes, and he knew she’d already thought it. He shook his head, turning back to the road. Beside him, Peggy pulled a bag of pistachios out of the sack and opened them. Holding the bag between her knees, she started shelling the nuts. BJ was reminded of one of their first dates, when she’d shelled an entire bag of pistachios for him without him even asking – occasionally feeding him one before going back to shelling.

“So.”

\- - -

Hawkeye woke up to a face inches from his.

“Hawk?”

“Hmm?”

“Can we make cookies?”

“Can we?”

“I’m asking the questions, mister!”

Hawkeye laughed and rubbed his eyes. A glance at the tv told him they’d slept through more than a full episode, and one look at the clock told him it was lunch time.

“Why not? Are you hungry?”

She shrugged. “A little.”

“How about we make a lot of cookies and eat a little lunch?”

She grinned at him and immediately slid to the floor, running ahead to the kitchen. “I know where the flour is!”

“How about a cookbook?” Hawkeye ambled into the kitchen, sleepily scratching his stomach and relishing the feeling of cool tile on his bare feet. Erin emerged from the pantry carrying a sack of flour almost as big as she was. He took it from her and set it on the counter.

“Cookbook?” Erin returned to the pantry, noisily digging. Hawkeye started opening drawers, looking for pans and bowls.

“Yeah, or a recipe your mom uses. I’m a doctor, not a chef.”

The noise from the pantry paused for a moment, and Hawkeye could clearly imagine Erin puzzling over that one. Shortly the clatter resumed.

“Mom doesn’t use a recipe.”

Hawkeye leaned against the counter, taking the sugar Erin handed him.

“Tell me, oh master baker and nap-taker extraordinaire, do you have the recipe memorized?”

She handed him a large yellow mixing bowl. “No.”

He placed the bowl on his head and held the spoon out like a sword. Erin giggled. “You’re funny.”

“Turning sadness into humor is an art form, kid.” When Erin didn’t reply, he continued. “No recipe, no cookies.”

She sighed, a long-suffering noise of exasperation and knowing. One hand on her hip, she held the other out for Hawkeye. He grasped it, letting her lead him to the cabinet in the hallway. She pointed, and he opened. She pointed to a box, which he retrieved for her. Her little fingers deftly swiped the sliding lid to the side, and she fumbled around in the stack of notecards it contained before holding one up for him. He took it from her.

“ _Grandpa’s Chocolate Chip Cookies._ ” He looked at Erin. “I thought you said your mom doesn’t use a recipe!”

“Dad does.”

\- - -

They stopped at Shakey’s for pizza to go. Usually when they stopped at the colorful pizza parlor, it was for a date night or family outing. Peggy had found the pizza joint with some girlfriends and insisted on bringing BJ when he’d come home. It was good; Sherwood “Shakey” Johnson ran the real deal. Live music was a staple at Shakey’s, as high quality as the pizza and beer. One of the parlor’s slogans ran _”You can feed your face at any old place, but you can warm your heart at Shakey’s.”_

Today was different, though. They didn’t sit down, but agreed to grab the pizza to-go and continue on toward Plumas National Forest. A shared, unspoken understanding seemed to have passed between them: there was a lot to discuss, and it wasn’t a pizza parlor type conversation.

“I still love you, BJ. I don’t think anything will change that,” Peggy said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “And I still need you.”

BJ finished his slice of pizza before answering. “Need me... but not in a way we need to be together for?”

“Erin needs you, and therefore I need you. We might not physically be together, but we’ll still have to be a team. I want you to be in her life. And mine,” she added.

“What about Hawkeye?”

“What about him?”

“Can he...” BJ halted. Licked his lips. Sniffed, stalling as long as possible before continuing. “Can _we_ be a part of her life?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

\- - -

“This may be my finest work yet,” Hawkeye announced. Erin giggled. A fingerprint of flour dotted the end of her nose, complimenting the chocolate smears on either side of her mouth. She held a hand up.

“High-five!”

“High-five!”

Hawkeye sent Erin to find some shoes, promising to take her to the playground if she’d help him straighten the kitchen first. She hurried back, dressed in clean clothes, and Hawkeye wiped her face off. They finished drying the dishes and set them up on the rack.

“Okay. Just down the street, right?”

“Mm-hm.” 

Hawkeye locked the front door behind them and let Erin lead, pulled along by the firm grasp she kept on his pinky finger. The wind was perfect, just light enough to make a warm day pleasant without buffeting them as they strolled down the sidewalk. Erin was right – the playground was just down the street a few blocks. 

“Your parents bring you here?”

“Mom does.”

Hawkeye gave her another push on the swing. “Not your dad?”

“No. He doesn’t like kids screaming.”

Erin swung back toward him twice before Hawkeye remembered to give her another push.

They spent the next few hours at the playground. There was a tennis court where they took turns thwacking the balls back and forth to each other until Erin got bored. She taught him how to play King of the Rock, showed him the best hiding places in the park, and he taught her jump-rope rhymes.

“How do you know that?”

“Some kids stayed at our MASH unit once. Some GIs had taught it to them. They taught us.”

“You jump rope?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I am athletic. I was the fastest chest player in my class.”

“You mean chess?"

"Sure."

She pondered that for a minute. "Do you get trophies for that?”

When they got tired, they sat on the park bench together. Erin swung her feet and leaned against him, cheeks red and glistening with sweat.

“I’m kinda hungry.”

Hawkeye agreed. “Me too.” He’d intended to make her eat lunch, but they’d had their fill of cookies and decided they’d address food later. “Your parents left money to go to Raymond’s. That what you want?”

“Yes! Raymond’s!”

That decided, they made their way back to the house. Hawkeye grabbed the cash and directions from the kitchen counter and they were off. He flicked the headlights on, evening starting to settle over Mill Valley in gentle hues of blue. Erin pointed things out to him along the way – her friend’s house, a church, the sidewalk where she scraped her knee, the place where the waitress spilled coffee on Peggy. Hawkeye can see the memories as Erin describes them, can see the Hunnicutts building their lives in Mill Valley, driving the streets at night, eating ice cream with friends. For a moment he felt like an intruder, but then Erin goes back to pointing things out, and the feeling dissipates. 

At the BBQ joint, a squatty woman with thick arms took their order from behind an old bar. She was friendly, homey – provoking memories of Crabapple Cove, giving Hawkeye a twinge of homesickness. There were enough options to leave Hawkeye overwhelmed, but she didn’t try to rush him. A group of men came in behind them, waiting impatiently on Erin to finish placing her order. Hawkeye paid and the two of them retreated to a table made from a giant spool. While they waited on their food, Erin drew in the giant coloring book she’d been lugging around, and Hawkeye people watched. 

The men were loud. Watching them, Hawkeye realized that he recognized the oldest of the group - the man owned the bait and tackle where he and BJ had dropped in before their fishing trip. White hair, broad shoulders, clean-cut with an ex-military air, he’d be hard to forget, even if Hawkeye hadn’t seen him just the day before. They sat at the other end of the room but Hawkeye could make out most of what they were saying – which meant Erin could, too, including the many expletives that peppered the group’s vocabulary. He caught himself scowling at them, accidentally making eye contact with the bait shop owner.

“Order for Pierce!”

Hawkeye broke eye contact with the man, relieved to hear his order being called. Balancing the to-go bags carefully, he pushed the door open with his back and let Erin go ahead of him, following her to the car. 

“Can you open the door, sweetheart?” 

Once they got the food settled in the front seat, he helped Erin into the back and shut the door before making his way around and sliding behind the wheel. He started the car and reached for his seatbelt.

“Hawkeye! The drinks!”

“Oh, damn.” He paused and glanced at Erin in the rearview mirror. “Sorry.”

“Daddy says the s-word sometimes. It’s okay.”

Hawkeye laughed. “I’ll be right back. Don’t leave without me, you hear?” He pointed a finger in her direction, narrowing his eyes and eliciting a laugh from the child in the backseat.

He was almost back inside when the door opened, the men who’d come in behind them now exiting the building. He nodded an _excuse me_ and tried to slide around them, but they barred his way.

“I didn’t know this place hired bouncers,” he said.

“Not funny.” 

Hawkeye shrugged. “It’s not my best. If you’ll just excuse me-“ he took another step toward the door, heart pounding in his chest. One of the men put a hand up, stopping him short. 

A feeling of panic washed over him – the restaurant was tucked into a corner behind a drug store, with no windows on the front of the building and no clear view from the street. He only hoped Erin had the good sense to stay in the car.

“What’s the rush?”

“Food's still hot,” Hawkeye shrugged. “I prefer my barbeque that way.”

“We know all about your preferences,” one of the younger men said. 

“With a sixth sense like that, you’d do great as waitstaff.”

“He your boyfriend?”

The conversation has shifted tonally, and they all knew it. They were walking toward him and he was retreating, Hawkeye realized – backing himself in to the dirty looking alley that ran alongside the building.

“He who?” Hawkeye glanced around as though looking for someone. The last blue light of evening had faded, leaving the street lights to illuminate what they could.

“You two were were holding each other and crying like little faggots. Pretty obvious.”

A sinking feeling comes over him as he recalls the night at the gas station, the car of men in the background, the abandon with which they’d clung to each other. Hawkeye glanced from one man to another. “I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation, fellas. You know how it is.”

The oldest man, the one Hawkeye recognized from before, laughs. It’s high-pitched and forced, but it makes the hair on the back of Hawkeye’s neck stand up.

"Pretty sure the bait you bought from me wasn't the only worm you held that day."

“Listen, I’ve got people expecting food back any minute. They’ll notice if I’m gone.” He’s grasping, he knows, but he couldn't help it. Hawkeye knew where this was headed and he didn’t like the odds. Gravel crunched under his sneakers and he briefly considered running before dismissing the idea. He wouldn't leave Erin.

“You got two to-go orders. Nobody’s waiting on you.” 

Hawkeye felt a sinking sense of dread in his stomach at the same moment he felt a fist collide with the side of his head.

\- - -

BJ watched Peggy watch the sunset. The light had faded fast there in the trees, leaving a canopy of cool air in it’s wake. Wind rippled the leaves overhead, a sea of green waving at them gently as if to say _goodnight, goodnight._

“It’s wild, right?” She doesn’t look up, seeming to know intuitively when he’s looking at her.

“What?”

She gestured first at the trees, then at him. “Everything. The way life works. The way the trees grow, the way we grow.”

“Waxing philosophical on me?”

She looked at him then, grinning. “Call me Plato, baby.”

“Okay, Plato baby.”

They’re quiet for a minute. BJ considered what she said, running over the conversations they’d had throughout the day. _Wild is right_ he thought. They’d talked about everything under the sun, and then some. BJ had been terrified of trying to explain how he felt, but it turned out that he had no reason to worry. 

_”It wasn’t your fault, but I had to let other people love me while you were gone. I had to be open with my friends – about everything! We learned to care about each other in capacities I had no idea could exist outside of us.” Peggy placed a hand on his arm, stroking the spot under his shirt where the scar lay. “And you did too. You needed someone more than I needed someone, and that person is Hawkeye. Am I wrong?”_

_He considered all the times he’d denied it when he was in Korea, all the ways he’d beaten himself up for it. Peg would write a letter and mention something around the house needing to be done – something trivial, usually – and he’d immediately feel guilt. Sure, he’d let the others believe it was guilt over not being there for her. Hell, sometimes he’d believed it himself. But in the end, the reality was that he felt guilty over having someone else to look out for, someone he could help right then. Someone who looked out for him, too._

_“BJ?”_

_He nodded. “You’re right.”_

He felt better, knowing that, admitting it. Peggy had sat there - physically sat there and looked him in the eye to tell him that she’d felt the same way. The ebb and flow of guilt that had pulled him out to the depths of frustration was suddenly lessened, manageable in a way it hadn’t been since he’d returned stateside. His parents crossed his mind and he wonders how he’d tell them. 

_If I tell them. What I’d tell them._

That reminded him. “Are we still going to visit your dad?”

Peggy nodded immediately. “I was thinking about leaving early.”

“How early?”

“This weekend?” Peggy glanced at him, questioning rather than stating.

“That’s like, two days from now, Peg. I have the meeting with the board on Monday and Hawkeye needs to go home-“

“You don’t have to come.”

He stopped short. “What?”

She shrugged, turning back to watch a squirrel running between the trees. “You don’t have to come. Dad knows you’re busy, and I don’t think Hawkeye’s ready to go home.”

“I’m not sure about you two going alone. Not that you’re not capable, but I don’t think-“

Peggy held up a hand. “Listen. I’m not going to argue with you. If you want to come with, then I’ll be happy that you do. I just think it might work in both of our favor to have a little time to think, mull over where this is going.”

“I thought we decided where it’s going? I thought that’s what we’ve been talking about for the last six hours.”

“Deciding and accepting or deciding and knowing are two totally different things.” 

BJ hadn’t thought of it like that. He felt pretty good about their day, about what they’d discussed. He didn’t feel like he was abandoning Peggy anymore, or that he was useless and being cast aside. But there was still the question of Hawkeye and where they’d go from this moment on. He wasn’t sure when Hawkeye would go home, but he didn’t want him to leave anytime soon. _Or ever,_ BJ thought. The idea hit him like a brick; he didn’t want them to be apart ever again if they could help it. Whatever that looked like.

“And then you’ll come back and...?”

“And we’ll figure it out from there.”

\- - -

He’s only semi-aware of the words flying above him - _fag_ and _sissy_ and _cocksucker_ \- focused instead on the way the gravel bites into the palms of his hands and the tender flesh of his forearms. 

Hawkeye was fairly certainly that the first blow had ruptured his eardrum – warmth trickled down the side of his face from his ear, head filled with buzzing. _Tympanic membrane perforation._ Besides the initial shock and thunderclap of pain, it hadn’t hurt as bad as he would’ve expected.

The second blow had landed solidly between his legs, a knee to the groin that sent him sprawling to his current position on the ground. _That_ hurt. Obviously having no qualms about hitting a man while he’s down, a kick to the ribs sent him careening onto his back. He blinked rapidly, vision blurry, and offhandedly notes that he’s crying. A second thought enters his mind – he’s rolled over on top of something. Hope whispered at him from the corner of his mind and he struggled to turn, having no problem moving slowly. Staying low, he grasped the object without looking. It's a stick, he thinks. Hawkeyed hoped for the best, grasping it tightly and launching himself to his feet.

The first swing is a surprise, and he lands a solid swing on the closest attacker with the most satisfying _thwack._

The second swing is expected, and he merely grazes the next man. The momentum from the swing threw him off balance, and he stumbled forward, directly into the oncoming fist. That one is eye-wateringly painful, but he barely has time to register the sensation before the next hit lands. Then the next, followed by another. Another. Another. He’s back on his hands and knees, resorting to covering his head and curling in on himself, meager means of protection and yet the only thing he can think of.

“Hawkeye? Hawk.” 

The small voice calling to him cuts through everything else, and he’s startled back to the moment. The creeping shadows of unconsciousness that had been dancing in the edges of his vision receded at a painful speed, leaving him reeling.

It took a few minutes for Hawkeye to realize the blows had stopped, and he still hesitated to release his head and uncurl from the defensive position. When nothing happened, he let go, pushing himself up. The sound of car doors slamming made him whip around, fear that they were after Erin superseding his own terror. A small, red four-door peeled out of the parking lot, and he slumped momentarily, catching his breath.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute since he’d left Erin, maybe two, but it had felt like an eternity. That childlike impatience had aided him more in that moment than anything he’d have been able to do on his own. The thought caught him off guard and he swallowed thickly to avoid crying.

Picking himself up off the ground, Hawkeye made an attempt to brush the dust off his clothes. He wiped at his face, hand coming away sticky and red. He rounded the corner of the building, pretending to fix his hair in an attempt to hide his face as he passed Erin’s window. Sliding in to the car, he flipped the rearview mirror up and shifted the car into gear.

“Hawkeye, you didn’t get our drinks.”

“I know, I know.” He turned out onto the main road and turned off through a residential neighborhood, hoping to avoid the main street lighting. “I’ll buy you any drink you want tomorrow, or the next day, or any day for the rest of your life, okay?

“Sure. Hawk?”

“Yes?” 

“Did you know those people?”

His heart sped up.

“No.”

“Mommy says I shouldn’t talk to strangers. You shouldn’t talk to strangers, Hawk.”

They pulled up at the house, and Hawkeye sent Erin on in to get washed up, leaving a wide gap between them. Hands shaking, he set the food on the table and found a fork, filled a glass full of water and set it all at Erin’s place. He stayed out of the direct light, and between excusing himself to clean up in the bathroom and telling Erin she could skip brushing her teeth, he managed to get her tucked into bed with minimal questioning. Then – and only then - did he allow himself to feel what every bone in his body was trying to tell him.

\- - -

“Lights on. Wonder if Hawk’s still up?” 

Peggy and BJ made their way into the house. BJ dropped the bag from his shoulder on to the table, glancing at the leftover food, dishes scattered and unattended.

“Geez. I’d think we were back in the swamp if I didn’t know any better.”

Peggy emerged from the kitchen, brow furrowed. “He in the living room?”

BJ stalked into the living room. “Nope.” He continued on down the hallway. The bathroom door was open, light spilling out into the hallway. 

“Hey, Hawk. Didn’t think you’d be-“

BJ cut himself off mid-sentence, words freezing in his throat.

“Fuck! Fuck. Peg!”


	6. Chapter 6

_How long have I needed to paint that spot on the wall?_ He shut his eyes again, blocking out the sunlight that had woken him, and shifted to pull the covers up. _Oh._ Pain in his side and arm and – everywhere – broke the dam of memory and he realized with an onset of panic that he wasn’t in his own bedroom. Hawkeye opened his eyes, searching the room for something to orient himself by. He remembered only fragmented pieces of the previous night - _Peg is stroking his hair and BJ is kneeling beside him, the tile feels wet, the air smells like antiseptic and he feels like throwing up_ \- but it was enough to make his scalp crawl with subsequent dread.

Cautiously, he eased himself out of bed and shuffled toward the door, next to which his robe was hanging. He was stiff, dull pain encompassing him from head to toe. As he made his way across the room, Hawkeye caught sight of himself in the small vanity against the wall. He stopped, inspecting his reflection with an analytical eye. Water-color like bruising blossomed against his pale torso, and the face staring back at him was a patchwork of bruises and lacerations. He stood there for a moment before moving on, sliding his arms into his robe, tying it at the waist and stalking out into the hallway. Something was scratching his arm inside the robe – he pulled at the sleeve and twisted his arm. A neat row of sutures ran from his elbow up and over his forearm. He fingered them gentle with the tip of his bandaged forefinger.

“Nice work here, Beej.” He gestured at the stitches as he entered the kitchen. “Ever thought about becoming a doctor?”

BJ and Peg both turned to him as he spoke. Erin, from her spot at the kitchen bar, cheered and held her hands up toward him. “Hawkeye!”

“Hey, Singlespeed. You okay?” He reached her and held his arms out, swinging her up to his hip. He was vaguely aware of the couple watching him from the other side of the kitchen, Peggy poised over a skillet. 

She slowly reached for his face, one chubby finger outstretched. Gently, she traced the bruise along his cheek. “Does it hurt?”

Hawkeye reached up, prodded the bruise, and resisted wincing. Prodded again, and shook his head. “Not a thing.”

She looked at him with all the skepticism a child could muster, but let it go. He set her back down in her seat. 

“We’re having grilled cheese!” She pulled at the cheese that dripped over the side of her own sandwich, joyfully bringing it to her mouth and pulling back until it snapped.

BJ made his way over, and Hawkeye held out his hand. BJ handed him the mug of coffee he'd been drinking from. Their fingers brushed, and Hawkeye repressed a shiver.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like Jimmy Doyle after his fight with Sugar Ray Robinson.”

“Um... Doyle was dead after that fight.”

“Exactly.”

Peggy waved her spatula at him. “You want one?”

“How about some painkiller?”

“How about both?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

Peg buttered two more slices of bread, added cheese and slapped it down in the skillet. The hissing sound of butter frying filling the awkwardly quiet kitchen, and Hawkeye found himself leaning heavily against the counter. BJ, ever the protector, motioned toward the back door. 

“Wanna go sit?”

They moved to the deck. Hawkeye felt like he’d run a marathon in the short distance from guest bedroom to the rocking chair he planted himself in. Peg was right behind them with a plate of sandwiches, a glass of water and oblong pill in the other hand.

“That’s a bit more than an aspirin,” he said.

“Jimmy Doyle needed a bit more than an aspirin,” she reminded him. He had to give her that. He swallowed the pill and bit into his grilled cheese.

“Was she very scared?”

BJ paused, hand hovering over the sandwich plate. “Erin?”

“Yeah. I tried to protect her from the worst of it, you know. It didn’t look great to me, I’m sure it looked worse to a kid.”

“She was alright,” Peggy said. “She came in while we were cleaning you up.”

He sighed. “I hoped she’d go to sleep.”

“She asked if you were hurt because of the drinks,” Peggy said, confusion on her face. "You must've done a good job hiding it."

"What happened, Hawk?"

Out came the story. Hawkeye found himself relaying it easily up until it came to explaining the attack. “I don’t know. I set them off. It's been said that I have a provocative personality.”

“Set them off?” Peggy’s expression of disbelief matched her tone. “Hawkeye. Come on.” She met his gaze and held it until he could feel his restraint melting away. He looked away, only to meet BJ’s eyes, and the remainder of his walls fell away. When he finished explaining, he took another bite of his grilled cheese and shrugged.

“I’m okay though. I’m sorry you had to find me like...that.”

Peggy shook her head. “It’s not your fault. You owe me a bathrug, though.” She smirked, and he found himself smiling back at her. They finished lunch and Erin joined them outside, chasing the dog between the flower beds and plucking flowers when Peggy wasn’t looking.

"You sure you're okay?"

He nodded. “I will be. I think I’m going to go back to bed, though,” he announced. “Not to break up a lively gathering, but I’m not sure I’m so lively right now.”

Peggy took his plate. “Listen, Erin and I are leaving today.”

“What? Where to?”

“My dad’s place in Oklahoma, eventually. We usually visit this time of year. My friend called this morning and asked if we’d want to come up for the weekend. So we’re going to see her, then we’ll fly out after a few days.”

Hawkeye looked between BJ and Peg. She must’ve seen the worry cross his face, because she immediately shook her head. “Nothing like that, Hawkeye. Everything’s alright with us.” She glanced at BJ, who nodded in agreement. 

“Oh, good. I know I’m a heartwrecker, but I’d hate to be a homewrecker.” 

“We’d like for you to stay,” she said. Hawkeye paused on his way in, turning to look at her. “As long as you want." He nodded slowly, unsure if he was comprehending the meaning in her words. Her eyes told him he was. His head still hurt, and he decided not to dwell on it. 

\- - -

Erin came in to his room later, cautiously peeking around the doorframe.

“Pssst.”

He kept his eyes closed and pretended to snore deeper.

“Pssst!”

He snorted, and cracked one eye. She giggled, and he couldn’t help but smile. Peggy followed her, BJ right behind. First Erin and then Peg kissed him goodbye. Erin threatened tears, but Hawkeye told her to have lots of adventures – _”And that’s an order,”_ \- and report back to him about every detail. She cheered up, and they made their way out of the room, Erin skipping ahead. BJ shrugged, hands in his pockets. He was wearing those ridiculous red suspenders, Hawkeye noted. 

“What?”

“You have the fashion sense of a park bench.”

“People love park benches.”

“Lovers love park benches.”

BJ smiled faintly and shook his head, stepping toward the door. “Need anything before we go?”

“You’re not gonna kiss me goodbye?”

There it was. Hawkeye let it hang in the air, waiting to see whether BJ would bat it down or catch it. 

“Not yet.” He rapped the door frame. “I’ll be back.”

 _Not yet._ Hawkeye laid on the guest bed and wracked his brain for the key to understanding everything that’d happened since he’d been in Mill Valley. Tired of staring at the walls of the Hunnicutt guest bedroom, he rose and ambled around the house. 

Pictures on the wall showed Peggy and BJ on their wedding day, Erin and Peggy in the hospital the day Erin was born. Erin’s first birthday, pictures of their home, of Peg with her realtor’s license. Erin, grinning widely, a gap where one of her front teeth should’ve been. 

He moved on, pulling his robe tight. His feet took him to the living room, and he found himself sitting on the couch. In front of him were more of Peggy’s sketches, a jar of colored water and a box of paints joining the mess. He loved it – something about the chaos of the table screamed _hello! Real people live here! We care deeply and make messes and live life and you’re welcome to be a part of it!_ One of the watercolors caught his eye. He picked it up tenderly, almost fearfully. His heartbeat quickened, and he sat like that until it calmed down again. With a sudden forcefulness that sent jolt of pain through him, he stood. Taking the paper with him, he marched back to the bedroom and started the process of packing his bags.

When BJ returned, he found Hawk folding his last shirt and placing it in the suitcase.

“What’s all this?”

Hawkeye held up his hands. “Don’t try to stop me. I’ve made up my mind. I’m going.”

“You’re leaving? Hawkeye, what’s going on?”

Hawkeye picked up the book he’d brought and placed it in the top of the suitcase. “It is dangerous for me to be here, Beej. Don't try to stop me. I've made up my mind and you're not going to change it.”

BJ took a hesitant step toward him, but Hawkeye turned his back, grabbing the pair of sneakers from the floor. His ribs protested, but he continued on in a heated fervor, determined not to let BJ deter him.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Hawk.”

Hawkeye rounded on him, throwing his hands up. “Not me, you!”

“What?”

Hawkeye shrugged out of his robe, reaching for his change of clothes. “I’m aware that out of the two of us, I’m the least likely to win the boxing championship. But it could’ve been you!” He threw the robe on the bed beside his suitcase. “I’m not going to stick around and give anyone a reason to hurt you. Any of you!”

“You’re not leaving.”

“Oh, I’m leaving.”

The tension in the air was palpable, and Hawkeye became suddenly aware that he was standing there in his underwear, bruises and soul simultaneously exposed, but he doesn't care. He just doesn't care.

“Beej.”

He’d been waiting to be exposed like this for years, for what felt like a lifetime, two lifetimes, maybe three – and here he was. _Finally. Finally. Finally._ BJ’s thumb traced the sutures up Hawkeye’s forearm, coming to rest in the soft crook of his elbow. It feels like Maine in the springtime, like holding fresh laundry straight off the clothesline or the sun setting over a snowbank. Familiar, comfortable. Safe.

Hawkeye kisses him first.

He’d always wondered what it would be like, who’d lead, who’d hold back. If he’d get cold feet and back out. Now he doesn’t even have room in his head to think – his sensory neurons are firing faster than he can keep up with, his brain buzzed with pleasure.

BJ doesn’t hesitate to kiss him back. In fact, he returns the kiss with an urgency Hawkeye hadn’t felt for a long time. BJ’s hands come up to grasp him by the forearms, easing instead of pushing him backward and onto the bed.

In a small California guest room, tucked away in a quant Mill Valley neighborhood, years of uncertain yearning are brought to an end. In it’s place, a new kind of desire grows. Only this time, it doesn’t hurt, and they spend the rest of the afternoon acknowledging it.

\- - -

_sometime later_

Fall in Maine is a show like no other, reds and yellows melding together on the canvas of leaves, painting the countryside with crisp color.

They drive to Farmington, to Sebec Lake. He takes them to Bar Harbor and they go out on the water for the day. Erin is enraptured by the scenery, the vastness of it all. Hawkeye watches her take it in and feels a keen fondness in his heart for the child and her willingness to love things wholeheartedly. They eat their fill at his favorite restaurants and bring home the leftovers. The cottage that had been so empty before is now full of reminders of life being lived inside it. Dirty boots get kicked off at the door, and he marks Erin's height on the doorframe, just under the spot Daniel had marked his so many years ago.

Hawkeye takes BJ fishing, and they never get the gear out of the car.

Hawkeye takes Peggy fishing, and they come back with enough salmon for dinner - Erin gets underfoot and BJ brings him a beer while he cooks, hand on Hawk's lower back as he passes him in the kitchen. Peg helps him wash dishes after, and BJ gets Erin to bed. Their days pass like this, a blur of sleeping in, competitive card games at the kitchen table, and finding that the coffee's already made when he gets up in the morning. Hawkeye clears a wall for Peg and buys her a box full of stick pins, and she hangs up her sketches. At night, while he's waiting on his turn in the shower, he stands in front of the wall and inventories the new additions. He retrieves the one he took the day he'd tried to leave and hangs it with the others. It almost brings him to tears to look at it, so he pins it up and moves on. Peggy doesn't say anything when she notices, just rubs his shoulder and kisses his hair in passing.

This is how it goes. He wears BJ's Stanford hoodie, Peg wears his flannels, and Erin breaks the window with a baseball. Peggy hangs her drawings and lets the others do the cooking. Hawkeye rests his knee against BJ's when they sit together, and, amongst the various drawings on the wall hangs a watercolor of BJ cradling a wounded Hawkeye on the bathroom floor. It's raw and real, and he wouldn't change it for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Th-th-th-thats all, folks. Thanks to each and every one of you for commenting and leaving kudos. Generally speaking, I don't reply to comments because I (personally) hate to click on a fic thinking it's going to be good bc it has a lot of comments, only to find that 1/2+ are from the author. Don't think that I don't absolutely LOVE every single one of them. They make my day and fill my heart, to be totally sappy. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
> 
> Thank you to the people who let me bounce ideas off of them. It matters.
> 
> Fun fact: y'all got that little end piece in this chapter instead of another chapter later because I couldn't have left it at 7 chapters. I hate odd numbers. 
> 
> and yes. I'm aware I avoided the dirty chapter. whoops


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